Little Drops of Milk
by elisuni
Summary: Worthless. Hopeless. Dreamless. Stupid. Idiotic. Obnoxious. Annoying. Irritating. All of these explain me. I'm not perfect. I'm the exact opposite. I'm no hero, no kid Flash. / Wally-centric and Abuse from his parents. More verbal. Hope you enjoy! / Sometimes, it doesn't have to be physical to be a scar.


_**I Own Nothing * Wally's POV**_

 _ **-8*8-**_

 ** _Sometimes, it doesn't have to be physical to be a scar._**

 ** _-8*8-_**

 ** _"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."_**

 ** _...Laurel K. Hamilton_**

Worthless.

Hopeless.

Dreamless.

Stupid.

Idiotic.

Obnoxious.

Annoying.

Irritating.

I could go on. But I don't want to.

Because this is me.

Worthless because I don't have anything to give, all I do is take.

Hopeless because I'll never learn, and there's no point in trying cause I _can't_.

Dreamless because aspirations are for people who can possible reach them. And I'm too...

Stupid because I can't get anything right. I can't dream. I can't get good grades.

Idiotic because I am stupid, dense, dreamless, worthless, a dope. A total idiot.

Obnoxious because I'm too loud. Because I talk. Because I want something that I shouldn't want.

Annoying because I try. I try to say sorry and I try to forgive and I try to talk it out and I _try_.

Irritating because I won't go away.

 _Worthless_.

Every thought is pounded in my head over and over. There's no freedom for me. No point in trying because I'm _dreamless_.

Every mistake I make is continually ragging on me. Turning me over with the words that I wish weren't true leaving his mouth. Because I'm _idiotic_.

I can't exactly tell what I did wrong. I don't know if it was knocking the milk over or getting it in the first place. I don't know- I guess I'm so confused... but then again, it's painfully clear, I shouldn't be confused. I'm just _stupid_.

I try and say sorry. I blab out apologies and stupid excuses. Everything flips my stomach because I know they aren't true.

"I didn't mean to!"

Well, that one's true, but is it? Can anyone really be so clumsy? I guess it's pretty obvious. The only thing my apologies and excuses and quick-talking words are doing are _annoying_ him.

I try to stand under his glowering gaze, only to slip on the spilled milk and fall on my back, my legs splayed and knocking down the chairs, sending the whole milk jug flying this time. I give an unmanly bark of surprise as my clothes get bathed in the liquid.

"Obnoxious brat!"

Yeah. I guess I'm _obnoxious_.

"But please! I didn't- I guess I'll clean it up! I'll clean it up!"

I cry that over and over. "I'll clean it up!" I try and make him believe it. But he doesn't. It's just _irritating_ him.

All I do is annoy and irritate and take. I spilled the jug of milk on the floor. I shouldn't have been drinking it in the first place. _He_ earned it. _He_ payed for it. What did I ever give him back? Nothing but spilling it all on the floor!

I'm _worthless._

There's nothing I can possibly ever do to change that. Nothing that can make me be able to repay him.

Nothing.

I can never possibly amount to anything. I guess... I'm _hopeless_.

He never raises a hand. Never, yet.

But sometimes?

It doesn't have to be physical to scar.

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Running along the streets, sometimes I can almost forget what I really am.

I can't run fast. I'm no athlete. Just another thing to add to my list of things I can't do...

But running as fast as I can with no thought of stopping... wind rushing through my hair and wind beating my face... I can almost imagine I'm the Flash! A perfect hero whose life is awesome! I bet he goes home every night to an awesome family and gets to eat an awesome dinner and never, ever spills the milk!

Because he's the _Flash._

No matter what happens, he's always fast enough to stop it.

He's the Scarlet Speedster. He runs through his city everyday kicking villain butt and saving girls that _don't_ have cooties! And even if they did, the Flash would still save them, because he's a _hero!_

I wish I could be a hero. I wish that my pumping heart and racing legs could suddenly give way and I could streak around the world like the _Flash!_ I could be a _kid_ Flash!

But then, as my heart begins to burn and my legs begin ache, and the trees stop passing and the grass stops whizzing past me, the horrible reality crushes me again.

I'm not a kid Flash.

I'm no hero.

I'm just a worthless idiot who can't even tie his shoelaces right. I know this because as I quickly decelerate from my non-amazing speed, I trip over the neon cords waving at my feet. I don't know how it didn't happen sooner. Probably because I was moving to fast to realize what I was running from. My steps to big to trip on the immediate problem.

I guess that's my life.

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Sometimes I don't know why I even run anymore.

Even in times like these.

When the sun slowly begins climbing down and I stumble out of detention right into Harry Jeckleson. And big Mr. Harry Jeckleson looks down his long nose at me and growls.

I don't know if it's because I bumped into him, or that he is simply angry, but he grabs me and drags me off of school grounds and to the park where he punches me in the gut.

"Teach you." he snarls.

He tries to punch me again, but I run. I run so, so, so _hard_.

But what am I running from? He's just gonna catch me and hurt me again. And even if he didn't, it might make me feel better, the fists kneading all of my many imperfections out and away. So, why am I running?

I guess I don't know.

But I run so hard that my world passes in a fuzzy blur, and I can almost imagine it melting away into just a smudge, millions pictures of the world passing too fast for my mind to comprehend.

It doesn't, though, it never does. But sometimes... sometimes it's just nice to pretend that I'm Kid Flash. Because Kid Flash would be important. Kid Flash would be cool. Kid Flash would be loved. Kid Flash would be... he would be...

Well, he'd definitely _not_ be _me_.

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It's times like these I'm reminded how selfish I am. How selfish the _world_ is.

My Mom is getting her nails done. So I'm sitting in the foyer watching the news while doing my homework. Well, my homework is long forgotten.

The images that dominate the screen are of a little boy. He's only a couple years younger than I am, actually. An innocent eight year old is being shown, long black hair blanketing his eyes as he bows over two people covered in blood. It is just a picture, though. Just a broken memory of what happened last night.

Particularly interesting thing, is that the reporter is my Aunt Iris. She is quite beautiful, I reflect. She was in charge of reporting on the circus. I'm not sure why she was sent to Gotham to do so, but I guess it makes me lucky as I watch her recount the tale.

 _"Eight year old Richard Grayson watched his family plummet to their deaths in a tragic and uncalled for act of violence. We are lucky that Richard himself wasn't on the high-wire last night, due to the fact that his family was performing a particularly dangerous stunt_ without _a net. His only remaining family member is currently in a coma, and if he wakes up will be paralyzed for life. The only thing we can do is pray..."_

I don't know what to think. This boy was so innocent. Just a little circus kid. A little circus kid who could do flips and almost fly like Superman- no, he was like Batman! Swinging from the cables on the ceiling, he was just a little kid. A little kid who probably never spilled the milk.

I don't know what to do, either. I want to tell him I'm sorry. That he really doesn't deserve this. But he's all the way in Gotham, so there's nothing I _can_ do. I guess, well, I could do like Aunt Iris said and pray... but God doesn't exist? I think? Possibly?

That's what Dad tells me. He says if God existed, I wouldn't be here to plague him.

Mom says God might exist, but if he does, he sure as heck doesn't care about _me_.

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Sometimes I'm scared for no reason.

I think it's because I'm not running.

I think it's because if I run fast enough, nothing bad can catch me, and nothing's fast enough to keep up.

But I can't run fast enough. And If sometimes I can, I'll have to stop and take a breath, giving it just enough time to jump on my back again and scream: "You can't do it, little boy! You can't run with me here! You're _not strong enough!_ "

 _You're no hero!_

 _You're no genius!_

 _You're no worth!_

 _But most of all, you're definitely no kid Flash!_

Kid Flash.

That's the part of me... my Mary Stu or whatever you call it. Every time I close my eyes, the world melts away and I'm running alongside the FLASH. I _am_ the Flash! The _kid_ Flash! Every time I can let this world melt away, I stop spilling milk and I can RUN! Leave all my problems in the wind so I can go help people! So I can be a _hero_!

The colors are like the Flash, but inverted. Yellow and red. I could be... the Canary Speedster! Yeah! That's almost as cool as the Scarlet Speedster!

The world Flashes past as we skid to a halt, victorious as our matching gloves punch the poor old consciousness out of Captain Cold! He goes flying and I tie him up in the blink of an eye!

But then comes the very best part! The Flash scoops up Aunt Iris- cause she's the most beautiful girl in the universe- and I grab Linda, the most popular girl at school! They both give us kisses on the cheeks and tell us "You're my hero!" before we flash past the world again, girls hanging for dear life before skid to a stop in front of the Flash HQ! And then we have cookies and... milk...

Kid Flash doesn't spill the milk.

But _I_ always _will._

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When Halloween comes, I never get a costume. This year, like last year and the year before that and the year before that and the... well, I wanted to be the Flash. The _kid_ Flash!

But I didn't ask. I'd have to figure it out myself. And as usual, I end up not being _able_ to figure it out and go out as a Ninja. Ninja's are easy. All I do is wear all black and take one of my Mom's old, hole-ridden black nylon tights and stretch it over my head.

I try out a couple ninja moves, one of them landing me on the frosty ground, before running out to trick-or-treat. I don't really have anyone to do it with, but that's beside the point. I get free candy! I run from house to house. A couple people ask me what I am, and I always answer with: "A ninja like Batman!"

One of these people was dressed as Robin.

I run up to a house when he appears out of nowhere, accidentally causing me to knock headlong into him, sending us both to the ground. He looks really confused. I can't much blame him, though. After all, he only looks about nine, or at most ten, and is covered in bruises and scrapes like he had just fought Gorilla Grodd.

"Who're you?" his voice is tinged with an interesting accent. I can't begin to place it, but the other half appears to be Jerseyish, probably... Gothamite? No, that's crazy! Gothamites never leave Gotham! At least, that's what my Mom says.

"I'm a ninja! Like Batman!" I answer, thinking that he is referring to my costume.

"NO! Not like Batman! Not at all!"

I pause. "Sheesh, I know it's not a great costume but you don't have to have a panic attack!"

The poor kid shakes his head, reaching his hand to his ear. "Uncle Barry... for goodness sake! _Pick up!_ "

I was confused, but I think he had one of those ear-phone things. "No way!" I say, catching his attention. His mask is really good. So good it almost looks real.

"What?!" he snaps.

I'm a bit taken aback, but not one to deterred, I exclaim: "I have an Uncle Barry, to! Don't know him that well, but that's so cool!"

The kid freezes in front of me. "B-Barry?" he stutters. His knee buckles, but he quickly pulls himself back to his feet.

"Yeah?" I raise an eyebrow. "You just said his name?"

"Aw... crud... rule number Four, NO NAMES ON THE FIELD. Stupid Braniac and his stupid mettling and his stupid taking over the stupid Watchtower..."

"What?" It's my turn to be confused.

"Ugh! C-can't get him out of my _head_!" The kid yells.

I pat him awkwardly on the shoulder, only to be thrown into some sort of judo flip and pinned to the ground.

"I-I'm s-sorry... I c-can't focus... mind's so _fuzzy_... Braniac... Watchtower... Bat-Batman... Un-Uncle Baaaarrryy s-stooop... h-him..." the kid groans as he falls back, tumbling to the ground and growing still.

"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!" I jump up, trying to shake him. There's a slight vibration, and I follow it to his earpie- whoooooaaaaa.

It's super... high-tech and super amazing and whoaaaaaa. It's a tiny silver disk with a red bird symbol on it. I haven't ever seen anything like it. The poor kid looks like he needs a hospital, though... I stick it my ear, not sure how it works, but I know I need to call _someone_. The kid is bleeding all over, and quite frankly, I don't have any clue as to how to stop it.

I hit the little bird symbol and a voice drowns my ear. _"Baby Bird?! Robin?! Dickie?! Hey buddy- where are you?!"_

 _"_ Hey, um, hello-" I begin, only to be cut off as the voice turns hostile.

 _"Who are you?! Where's Robin?! What have you done to him?! I swear I will skin you alive then take every bone and organ out of your body one by one of you did-"_

Ok. I am kinda' scared by now. "No! No! Please don't hurt me- I'm Wally West and-"

 _"West?"_ The voice sounds surprised.

"Yes! And-"

 _"Like, Iris West?"_

"Uh-huh! This kid calls you Uncle Barry- I have an Uncle Barry to, although he doesn't know me so well- but I need-"

 _"YOU'RE MY NEPHEW?!"_

"What?" I freeze. Is it possible that...?"

 _"Oh crap oh crap oh crap! Nothing, kid! Forget about it!"_

"Y-you're my Uncle Barry?!" I choke. My Mom had gone to her sister's wedding only about a year ago! I'd only met Barry once!

 _"Er... no? I'm going to need you to tell me exactly where you are!"_

"I'm- I''m in my neighborhood. 1413 Chipperhead Ln.-"

 _"Got it!"_

The voice goes quiet and I can't help but freak out. This kid knows my Uncle?! My Uncle has a nephew?!

My thoughts are interrupted by a fierce wind as something screeches to a halt. It's the _Flash._

I just... can't... words gone... heart exploding... I... dying... excited... terrified- MY VERY FAVORITE LEGEND, MY HOPE MY DREAM, MY IDOL, MY ROLE-MODEL MY EVERYTHING- STANDING _RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES!_

I gawk as the one, the only, Scarlet Speedster bends over the little boy and tentatively shakes his shoulders. The boy doesn't respond and my hero rips of his cowl, and all my world goes white.

White because the absolute _excitement_ and _surprise_ overwhelms me! It's so amazing that I can't even register what's happening for a minute before I can actually identify his face.

And my heart stops. Freezes.

It's my Uncle. My Uncle freakin' Barry.

Tears run down his face as he scoops up the boy and whispers something I'm too excited to hear. And then, in a Flash, they're gone.

My _uncle_ is the _Flash_.

I bet he doesn't ever spill the milk- oh goodness, I can just ask Aunt Iris!

MY UNCLE IS THE FLASH!

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 _ **Well, there we go. :)**_

 _ **Yay, first Wally-Centric story I've ever written! Yay! Reviews appreciated!**_

 _ **~Universe**_


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